Taking Cover (Wingmen Warriors 2)

Either way, Tanner's temper stirred like the rumbling percussion of Crusty's imaginary bomb. But another confrontation with Kathleen would only lead them into saying things that would make work even more strained in the morning.

Better to sit, bolt back some buffalo wings and watch the movie. He did not need to extend their discussion to a parking lot.

A dimly lit parking lot.

An image of Kathleen, vulnerable as she walked to her car, exploded within him. She might be smart as hell and capable beyond reason, but so was his sister. None of that had mattered to a man twice her size with a gun.

Regardless of how much Kathleen infuriated him, she was his partner. His wingman.

And he'd let her leave. Alone.

"Damn." Tanner sprinted for the door.

"Damn." Kathleen thumbed the unlock button on her key chain for the third time and it didn't open the car. "Damn. Damn. Damn him!"

Slumping against the silver Ford Taurus, she sucked in calming air. The chilly desert night did little to help cool the hot swirl of emotions.

She wanted to scream. She needed to cry. But she wouldn't do either because of a man ever again.

How would she get through the next day, much less weeks working with Tanner? God, she wished she could have that neutral ground back.

Staring up at the twinkling sky, Kathleen blinked away frustrated tears that blurred the stars until any wishing became impossible. The key weighted down her hand. Even her shoes seemed ten pounds heavier. Sighing, she palmed the door unlock button again and shoved away from her car.

Only to see another just like it.

Scanning the willy-nilly parked cars, Kathleen counted five silver Ford Tauruses in the lot, apparently the military rental car of choice.

Her shoes lost ten pounds with her laugh.

She finally spotted her car among the others parked in a haphazard cluster. As she walked, a coyote howled in the distance.

A shiver rippled through her. From nerves, the chili or just plain anger, she didn't know. She stole one last look at the stars, overly bright without the smear of smog diluting their brightness. Their intensity granted her peace if not wishes.

Wishing on a star was superstitious, anyway.

She shook free thoughts of superstitions before Tanner charged back into her mind.

Finally the key chain worked as advertised, activating interior lights as her car doors unlocked. She refused to feel guilty over leaving Tanner at the bar. He'd found his way there. He could find his way home. She reached for the door handle.

A hand fell on her shoulder.

Her fingers convulsed around her keys. Fear burned over her for three interminable seconds.

Then instincts brought chilling numbness. Training assumed command of her brain.

Kathleen rammed her heel on the foot behind her. Her elbow pumped back into a rock-solid stomach. A gratifying swoosh of air huffed over her just before a burly arm banded around her stomach.

She forced down panic. Think.

The keys. Set off the car alarm.

She juggled the keys in her hand, grappling for the right button. Sweat slicked her palm. The keys jangled to the ground.

Fear rolled over her in earnest. Use it. Channel it. Go for the groin.

A hand vise-gripped her wrist.

"Kathleen."